Four Characters in Search of an Exit
by Night of the Living Monkey
Summary: A broken elevator threatens to upset Halloween plans for three of Gotham's most infamous villains. And a poor, random schmuck trapped with them.


Happy Halloween, folks, and welcome to my yearly All Hallow's Eve fic.

* * *

Henry had just been trying to get home. He had five kids and two dogs he had to wrestle into costumes, a trick-or-treat route he still hadn't quite ironed out, and a creepy neighbor he had to ensure wasn't going to snatch anyone. He didn't have time for the elevator to break down.

Especially not with three people he was 99.9% sure were super villains inside it.

"Why, it's simply impassible!" the man in the preposterous hat said as he knocked on the elevator doors.

Scratch that, make it 100%. Henry's oldest daughter had just read _Alice in Wonderland_ for a book report, and nobody except the Mad Hatter went around quoting that weird shit.

"Professor, gimme a boost. I can reach the emergency hatch in the roof!"

The unnaturally tall and thin man in the rear of the elevator sighed. "We haven't even been in here five minutes. Let's give the fire department a bit more time before attempting dangerous nonsense."

"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense," Jervis told nobody in particular.

Crane scowled at him. "Please, tell me how that's any different from the idiot fantasy you currently inhabit."

Harley squirmed like a child in desperate need of the potty. "But we're gonna miss Ozzy's party and me and Jervis were waitin' all month."

"You're not going to miss the Penguin's party, though why you'd want to go in the first place, I can't fathom. The Iceberg Lounge won't close until dawn," Crane said. "Secondly, Jervis has no sense of time. I've seen his pocket watch. _Doctor Who_ is more composed and linear."

Henry couldn't help himself; he snorted laughter at Crane's reference to the British sci-fi show. Then he remembered he would be safer in a tiger cage at the zoo and went back to trying to blend in to the faux-wood paneling.

The three villains had of course realized Henry was standing in the corner, trying to look small and not fun to torture and dismember, and had written him out of existence. He was like furniture a person walked past everyday. A part of the landscape.

Until he opened his mouth.

"You ain't as tall as the Professor, but you're taller that Jervis. You got any slipped discs or can I hop-"

"You are not climbing on random strangers either! Sit down and wait for the fire department!"

"But what if we run outta air?"

"That is absurd and you know it. We aren't in a submarine on the bottom of the ocean. There is absolutely no way we are going to run out of air."

Harley glanced around the crowded space. "But what if...what if the cables break and the elevator crashes down and we all get crushed like bugs?!"

"We're trapped between the second and ground floor. The fall is probably less than ten feet. On the so-minuscule-it's-not-worth-discussing chance all the brakes and safety measures failed, we'd be looking at broken legs at worst," Crane replied.

"The time has come to talk of many things: Of shoes and ships - and sealing wax - of cabbages and kings," Jervis interrupted.

"No, it's not time to talk of any of those things. Go shake your hat at the doors, see if that helps anything."

As Henry watched the exchange, he could only be reminded of his own family dynamic. He had no idea who in his family the Hatter was, thank God for small favors, but Harley could be any of his younger children, with their endless questions, refusal to believe what was right in front of them, and general tendency to be huge pains in the ass who seemed determined to play in traffic, stick forks in sockets, or otherwise kill themselves daily.

"Okay, but what if Godzilla-"

"A fictional lizard?! A. Fictional. Lizard!"

"This elevator is creepy and gross and smells like pee and I want to get out! Okay? You like super scary places like this but I hate 'em!

Crane's instinctive reaction to learning someone had a fear, especially one as easy to exploit as claustrophobia, was to exploit the hell of out it, naturally. However, because Harley was about as close to a "friend" as he had, and because an elevator with limited ventilation and plenty of potentially flailing limbs wasn't the safest place to release fear toxin, he restrained himself. It wouldn't do to risk his broader Halloween plans (and the wrath of Harley's bestest best gal pal Poison Ivy) for a little amusement now.

"I understand, Harleen, but we have endless oxygen, I have it on good authority Jervis has a number of snacks in his coat pockets, and the situation is stable. We only-"

There was a grinding creak and the lights went out.

"WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"

* * *

The cheery glow of a cell phone lit the elevator. Harley attached herself like a starving tick to Henry and his beautiful, perfect marvel of Apple engineering.

"I assume you don't have a signal," Crane said.

"No, I checked as soon as the elevator stopped. I never get reception in here," Henry replied. He tried to inch away from the blonde plastered to him. She followed him.

"I have the same problem. I hoped it was because I prefer twenty-dollar burners. Alas, not even the mighty Steve Jobs could overcome an elevator shaft," Crane said. He removed his own phone, a flip model he'd bought with cash from a gas station, from his pocket.

Harley momentarily dared to take her eyes from Henry's iPhone. "Jeez, Professor, that looks like one of those phones they sell to old people in commercials."

"My phone has a battery life of three days. His, particularly with that flashlight app enabled, will be dead in two hours. Or less."

Harley made an "eep!" noise and grabbed Henry's phone. She cranked the flashlight down a few notches and held it closer to her face. When Henry reached for his property, Harley scuttled away with her prize.

"Come on, that cost me like six hundred dollars!" Henry shouted.

"Is six hundred dollars worth engendering the wrath or the crying jag of Harley Quinn?" Crane asked.

When you put it that way... Henry shook his head and pressed his back against the wall of the elevator. Maybe, like his kids and their five-second attention spans, as soon as the elevator was working again, she'd lose all interest and give his phone back. It wasn't like she had anywhere to keep it in her skin-tight ballerina costume, anyway.

As soon as it had been settled that Harley could keep her glowing security blanket, Jervis cut in to ensure things stayed peaceable. He reached into the deep pocket of his colorful overcoat and produced a stack of delicate porcelain tea cups. Henry's jaw dropped open.

Crane smirked. "This is common by Tetch's standards."

From the opposite pocket the Hatter withdrew a miniature folded tablecloth. He spread it across the floor and smoothed out the wrinkles. Once it was perfect, he placed a cup on each side.

This display drew Harley's attention away from her Gollum-like preoccupation with the phone. She lived for snacks and sugar, and should she ever develop diabetes, she wouldn't be long attached to her feet and sight.

"Okay... How does he do that?" Henry asked.

Crane shrugged. "I personally try not to think about it, but if you'd like to parse an answer out of 'sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast,' you're a more adventurous man than me."

"I think I'm good."

His two large side pockets depleted, the Hatter turned to his smaller breast pocket. From this pocket he drew a bag of cookies that, like happiness at Christmas, did not come from a store. These cookies, despite their ride in a maniac's coat, somehow remained perfect and had hardly shed a single crumb.

"Yay, Jervis! You made your special cookies!" Harley squealed, her claustrophobia forgotten.

Henry turned again to Crane who was, God help them, definitely the sanest of the three villains. "Is it safe to eat his cookies? Because I've watched the news and may or may not have spent some time on Wikipedia just, you know, reading random stuff and I wouldn't take candy from him. Let's just put it like that."

"Your prerogative," Crane replied.

"But, oh, he's offering me one. Oh, crap city."

Jervis, beaming like a victim of the Joker's toxic laughing gas, attempted to jam a cookie into Henry's hands. "Take some more tea!"

"That is a cookie. Wait, is that a quote? Jenny, where is your book report when I need it?"

"Would you like some wine?" Jervis inquired, still poking at Henry with the cookie.

"Not while I'm trapped in a elevator, thank you."

"We haven't any and you're too young!"

"Great, fantastic, thank you for the offer anyway."

Harley, having already stuffed her face with two cookies, waved Henry's cell phone in the air like she was trying to signal a plane. "If he wants to miss out, gimme!"

The Hatter stopped terrifying Henry and gave the cookie to Harley. As soon as Harley was a happy little mouse nibbling away, Jervis returned to his tea set.

It would seem as though all his pockets had given up their goodies, but a tea party with no tea was as preposterous as a wise fish going around without a porpoise. Jervis had a secret pocket on the inside of the coat, where the heat from a Thermos full of freshly brewed tea would keep out the cold of Gotham at the cusp of November. He now utilized this smuggler's pocket to produce the pièce de résistance.

"It's always time for tea," Jervis reported as he filled the four cups.

Harley joined Jervis on the floor for a proper tea party. It wasn't clear to Henry how much of what the Hatter said Harley understood, or if she actually understood any of it. Either way, the pair of them got on like a house on fire.

To Henry's surprise, a few minutes after Harley and Jervis settled in, Crane waded in between them and picked up one of the remaining cups. He held the other up to Henry.

How the shit did his life come to this? The Scarecrow was offering him tea originally prepared by the Mad Hatter. God, why did he have to step onto this elevator? Why was he in such a hurry? Why did it have to break down? Why, just once, couldn't he take his doctor's advice and use the stairs?

"Sure." Because screw it, he wasn't going to piss off the Scarecrow. If the guy offered him a roasted eyeball on a stick, he'd accept it.

Crane handed over a cup. Henry looked down at it. Poisoned. Definitely, one-hundred percent poisoned.

Crane switched cups without a word.

Two-hundred percent poisoned.

"Would you like me to drink from both?"

Henry felt sweat dampening his shirt. He was doing the thing he said he wouldn't do. He was pissing off the Scarecrow. He was going to die, and his kids and his dogs would never see him again except at his funeral and when all the kids at his kids' school learned how he died they'd make up some awful names and-

Crane borrowed the Thermos, poured both cups back in, gave the Thermos a vigorous shake, and then poured new cups for both of them. He returned Henry's cup and before any new paranoid thoughts could cross Henry's mind, downed half his own cup.

"As a general rule, I don't experiment around Harleen. Also, it will be easier to leave without questions if you're not rolling on the ground, screaming about whatever it is that keeps you up at night, when and if the fire department decides to show up."

"IF?" Harley gasped.

Crane rolled his eyes. "How many times can we go over it? Rescue is coming. It's likely being held up by whatever killed the power. Your cretinous boyfriend attempting to intrude on my territory, perhaps?"

The mention of the most perfect, handsome, doting, loving Puddin' in all the known universe calmed her down better than a happy pill. That crisis averted, Crane returned his attention to Henry.

"He is utterly insane by any standard you'd care to use, but his brewing ability is unmatched."

Henry patted himself on the back for maintaining a life insurance policy and then sipped the tea. He'd never really been one for tea, with the snobby British attachments and the pinky in the air so he didn't expect much. He certainly didn't expect his tastebuds to throw a party and his mind to stay anchored and not get thrown into a nightmare realm. But hey, bonus!

"That is really good tea!" Henry exclaimed after it became apparent Crane hadn't still found a way to slip him fear toxin.

"Rule Forty-two. All persons more than a mile high to leave the court," Jervis said, blushing.

Henry looked at Crane, who translated. "Your compliment makes him feel like he's a mile high. Ignore the rest."

"You're welcome?" Henry offered.

As far as villains went, Harley was among the touchiest and the feely-est. Was she the most logical, however? No, no she was not.

"Ah, you're so nice to Jervis. A lot of people think he's kinda weird and creepy. We need more friends like you! You got any grudges you wanna settle or colorful underpants you like dressin' in? Ooh, what's your Halloween costume? Maybe we could use that!"

Was Harley Quinn trying to recruit him? No way. No way. No freaking way.

"Mr. J says it only takes on bad day. But one good day probably works, too. Not that this was the best day ever, 'cause we're still stuck here, but you made some new friends. That's important."

New friends that made him want to pee his pants and think he was going to die, yeah.

Unnaturally long, spider-like fingers crawled their way onto Henry's shoulder. "There could be...potential. He certainly would exceed anything Killer Moth's ever managed."

"No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, really. But Spandex? Come on, look at me. Nobody wants to see that."

"No body shamin' allowed!" Harley scolded. "Costumes come in all shapes and sizes. And materials."

Henry switched approaches. "I have a family I love and that would not want to visit me in the nut house with a bunch of... I did not mean that."

"A bunch of _what_ , exactly?" Crane's fingers dug into Henry's shoulder.

Henry was spared the impossible task of finding a suitable word by the return of the lights and a voice shouting from somewhere below, "Hold tight, folks, we'll have you out in no time!

No time was actually five minutes of awkward silence and angry glares that felt instead like five thousand years. By the time the repairmen, firemen and one cop who had nothing better to do managed to get the elevator to the floor and pry the doors open, Henry thought he understood what Hell felt like.

The group was suspicious, mostly because of Jervis and his recognizable costume. Crane had the good sense not to wear his Scarecrow costume for civilization purposes, Harley was dressed like she was ready to be the Sugarplum Fairy, and Henry looked like a million other office drones, however. Harley's flirting with the first responders and Crane's careful conditioning of Jervis in those precious five minutes to just say "thank you for rescuing us," and "party time" was enough to save them all from a brawl with the firemen.

The firemen and repairmen were more interested in the elevator than who they'd pulled from it. Except for maybe Harley, who was still performing elegant leaps even as she exited. Henry headed for the lobby and the freedom beyond at just short of a run.

It wasn't quite fast enough. Crane waited until they'd all turned a corner before grabbing hold of one of the few dry spots on Henry's shirt.

"Harleen and Tetch are going to have their fun. They are not going to care what happens to you."

Henry groaned and wondered if he could scream loud enough to attract the firemen. Or if they could get here before Crane could murder him. Probably yes to the first, no way to the second, which made the first useless.

"But you did say you have a family that loves you."

"I'm sorry, please, leave my family out of this! Do whatever you want with me, but I won't tell you where I live! I won't!"

Crane scoffed. "If I really was insulted by you, and intended to destroy you utterly, I'd take your wallet to learn your address."

"Oh. So you don't want to decorate your evil lair with my family's spines?"

"No, that's gaudy and disgusting. I wanted to thank you for being my _amuse bouche_."

"Your what?"

"My little treat before the main event. You may have noticed it's Halloween and I'm not in costume."

Henry nodded

"That's because I've been spreading my Halloween out like Hanukkah."

This time Henry didn't nod. He didn't know what to do.

Crane offered him a grim smile. "You have children. Are you the type of parent who helps himself after the little ones go to bed on Halloween night? Of course you are, because there is no other type."

"You poisoned the candy! Jesus Christ!"

"Not this year. Let's just say, if all that candy gives you indigestion, live with it."

Realization dawned on Henry. The Scarecrow had poisoned any sort of antacid or stomach medicine that parents, and probably some children, would need the following day. Or later that very night.

"Now that you're privy to my plans, let me first say attempting to stop me is useless. I've spent the last week visiting as many pharmacies and grocery stores as humanly possible. If you feel the need to call the police, who will in turn call the Bat, who will attempt to ruin my favorite holiday, next year I _will_ poison the candy. And anything else I feel like turning into a ticking time bomb of fear. Understand?"

Henry found his nod worked again.

"Good man. Now get home before you're missed."

Henry did not need to be told twice. He bolted for the parking lot.

Crane pivoted around. The nondescript office he'd rented and transformed into a chemical weapons laboratory beckoned him. It was on the fourth floor. Harley and Jervis would need a mule to carry them up, but the climb was no effort for Crane.

He would not be using that elevator again.

* * *

The End!

Thanks for reading.

Author's Notes:

Most of Jervis's lines come from the assorted works of Lewis Carroll.

Doctor Who: Wibbly wobbly, timey timey.

The line Harley references, about one bad day, is taken from the graphic novel _The Killing Joke_.

And lastly, the title itself is based upon an episode of the _Twilight Zone_ , because you can't go wrong when you enter a dimension not only of light and sound, but of mind.


End file.
